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Best Poems From
RANI TURTON
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21.
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Farmers: The End of the Road
He couldn't see
The end of the road
Blinded by misery
What to do, there was nothing to do
Where to go
There was nowhere to go
He had nothing else to barter or sell
Not even his soul.
Loan repayment! What a dream!
For farmers the only way out
Is to cop out
Can anyone hear their plea?
The tears of an anonymous entity?
State by state, region by region
Their suicides have now become legion
Let the world now give them a voice
Instead of their being bereft of choice.
Rani Turton
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22.
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For You Who Grieve Tonight
The day was long, the night will be endless
Emotionally spent the tears won't come
Its just the heart that continues to beat
The soul has nothing more to eat
But ashes; dust and ashes.
Diamonds in the dust it may well be
Grief is an absolute entity
And living another form of tyranny
Speak of life and death, the details
Of what lies between birth and extinction
Rationality irks, cannot comfort the loss
Highflown theories until complete cessation
For those who grieve tonight, the pain
Almost too intense to bear:
Hearing, seeing, feeling their loss
And nobody, nobody with whom to share
The tears should come, do not check their flow
Tears can heal like a gentle loving hand
Calm the mind, ease the heart and
There is a lifetime ahead to understand.
Softly words will come
Someday grief will go
Forget the logical mind
Leave reason behind.
Copyright: Rani Turton
Rani Turton
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23.
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Fragile Hearts
Fragile hearts, hearts that break
Do not harsh words and ruptures take
Fragile hearts that trust and beat
Trodden under uncaring feet
Hearts, like roses in the rain,
Scatter under the onslaught of pain.
Copyright: Rani Turton
Rani Turton
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24.
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Handling the Pain
Stand near the light; don't walk towards the door
I'm myself, quite myself
Though quiet inside, I don't know.
Poets have often celebrated their pain
In verse with a swish of wine
My poetry has cleansed my mind often
Enabled me to feel rather fine
When I, in restless creativity
In the perpetual outsider's angst
Tried with music to soothe my troubled mind
When I submitted to sleep with thanks
How do I handle this feeling that comes upon me
At dawn, at dusk, at midnight,
I found the Woolfian and Plathian dilemna
Apt as only poetic pain can be, wrong or right.
Artists, musicians, flying euphoric
Far in their dreams and the world looking at them
As though they, and they alone could not understand
The compact structured world and its angles
While the pain got lost in all that trite rhetoric.
Handling the pain before it becomes a bonfire
That consumes your life and all those who loved you
Handle the pain, now that it cannot be borne
Give it wings, let it fly, let it break through.
Copyright: Rani Turton
Rani Turton
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